


He's Gone

by mads_kicks_ass



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Character Death, Funeral, Gen, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mads_kicks_ass/pseuds/mads_kicks_ass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus does not survive his suicide attempt (or so it looks like it). Murderface, being his best pal, attends his funeral. Sappy shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Gone

The minister stood next to the gravestone, stroking it lightly and looking at the small ‘crowd’ of people facing him. Just a small space separated him and a tall coffin in which peacefully laid a man with curly brown hair and a goatee. Magnus never really had any close friends or relatives who would visit him at the graves, save for his parents and William Murderface – an ex-band member. William did spot 3 other boys, presumably in their late teens, learning after a small chat that they were some of Magnus’ students. The older man apparently had been giving guitar lessons to support himself after he was kicked out of Dethklok and had pretty loyal and keen students.

Murderface took a note of Magnus’ parents – his mother was in a wheel chair and his father seemed to have some kind of rare skin condition. The two didn’t seem to interact with each other and had no wedding rings, which would lead the man to assume that they were divorced and gathered only for the sake of their son. Murderface felt a heavy feeling in his chest as soon as he took a glance at Magnus. Lifeless, quiet, relaxed, a peaceful expression on the dead man’s face… it was unsettling to say the least.

The bassist knew what he had to do. It was that time of the burial where he would have to face Magnus up close and say his final words. He didn’t want to face this all by himself. But he knew better than to ask the others to come with him; Toki was still in a massive panic, Offdensen and Skwisgaar were saying the guitarist’s side at all times, Pickles would most likely have arrived drunk and Nathan just didn’t care. 

Ever since the band first started making music, Murderface and Magnus always seemed somehow withdrawn from the rest. The other 3 would go to parties and sleep with sluts while the brunettes preferred to spend their time with each other, just sitting on roof tops and smoking cheap cigarettes. They were both interested in history, weapons and whatnot so they never ran out of things to talk to. Murderface was especially fascinated by the older male, often hearing stories about what awesome things he did (beating up thugs, nearly stabbing a man to death, tricking women into sleeping with him, etc.) and making it his goal to be like him in the future. He even got advice from Magnus on what knife to get.

The bass player slowly made his way to the casket, the feeling in his chest become more and more intense with every step he took. He knelt down in front of his friend at loss of words. His skin went pale and he felt sweat down his neck, his entire body shivering as his breathing went in a weird rhythm. His hand reached over to the dead man’s face tilting it so the two can face each other. William removed his fingers from the brunette’s hair and put them on his chest, not feeling anything through the thick, white fabric surrounding him. With a deep breath, he started,

“Magnusch… You were always-“, he cut himself off as he felt pressure on his face, knowing he was about to cry any moment.

“For fuck’s schake, man! You were fucking aweschome back then, alright?! I mean, you’re schtill aweschome, just, God…” he stopped again to rub his face. He didn’t care anymore; if he was going to cry then he was going to fucking do it right there. It’s not like there were many people to see him anyway.

“I’m schorry I couldn’t get Nathan to let you schtay! I wanted you to schtay, okay? You were the only fucking perschon that didn’t judge me and you weren’t like those, ugh, ascholes! You were a real fucking brother, man. A really cool fucking brother.”  
He could’ve sworn he had a lot of more things to say but staring down at his old friend’s lifeless face made him too scared to remember. He couldn’t believe this was the last time he was going to see Magnus – then the guitarist will be buried under the ground, never to return. Damn it, why was William’s heart beating so fast and why the fuck did he keep stuttering over his own words?

“I loved you, bro. Tsch, I’m not gay or anything, just like a brotherly kind of love! Yeah, that’s it! You were a real fucking pal, thank you. I’m schorry and thank you. I’m schorry if I was annoying or something, or that I couldn’t schave you from the schtab wound and all… You’re really great, man.” Murderface whispered a quiet ‘pleasche don’t leave me alone with them’ but his sobs made it impossible to hear. 

One of the bassist’s many tears fell on Magnus’ neck. Just then Murderface felt something against his hand. He pulled it away quickly in shock, trying to process whether it was a hallucination or not. He lifted his head up to face Magnus, only to see him giving a weak smile and winking with his healthy eye before returning to his dead-like state. It came clear to William – the dead man was actually alive.

“It’s time.” The minister said, signaling 2 men to take the casket away.

“Wait, he’sch alive!” Murderface yelled, tears still streaming down his face. 

“Nonsense.” A female voice, Magnus’ mother, rose from the back.

Murderface continued to scream, cry and protest, even after being pulled away by two of Magnus’ students, telling him to calm down. The bass player sniffed some snot away and watched two men in black covering the older man’s face and the coffin. The silent minister handed them some ropes as they proceeded to carefully drop the coffin a few meters under the ground. Magnus’ parents threw in some flowers, his dad murmuring something that sounded like “to think he’s dying before we are” and they both left. 

Murderface screamed at everyone to stop, his crying becoming more and more hysterical and his body quivering like crazy. The pope demanded that he stood quiet because he was ruining the ghost’s peace. 

“I fucking schaw it, he’s alive! He’s fucking alive, you ascholes!”

Everyone ignored him and the two boys tried to keep a firmer grip on the bassist. They too wished their teacher was alive but didn’t believe in miracles such as that one. The men in black grabbed their shovels and threw dirt onto the coffin, attempting to cover up the hole. With ever ‘thud’ made by the dirt, Murderface felt his breathing slowing down. He felt like he was going to pass out by the time they finish up the hole. He kept sobbing and telling them to stop, telling them that Magnus was still alive, telling them they couldn’t take this away from him. But alas, they did. 

Magnus Hammersmith was gone for good and officially erased from the Earth. His name was valid no more. His face will forever be in front of Murderface’s eyes.

Murderface would spend countless of days locked in his room, just crying and going back to old memories. The band was a bit concerned at first but eventually gave up reasoning with him; crying was gay and they even admitted that practice would be better without him. Toki got his curiosity triggered from time to time but his own mental health, accompanied by Skwisgaar and Charles, prevented him from visiting the bassist. Charles did try to somehow confront with Murderface but his room was always locked and he didn’t get any answers when he knocked. All he could hear were William’s tortured sobs and an occasional “Get out of here!” followed by breaking sounds. Sometimes the brunette would come out but only to get food and alcohol, sometimes even drugs. They were his only support for now and will probably be for a long period of time.

Epilogue:

Magnus stared at the black surface through his half-lidded eyes, smiling to himself. His entire body was numb and he couldn’t move but that didn’t bother him. His throat was dry and his stomach would growl every 5 minutes, telling him that he needed to be fed. He had no energy left and was just waiting for starvation and dehydration to slowly kill him as he lay in the black, hard coffin. He had no source of light, being surrounded by darkness. It didn’t bother him.

“Sorry, Murderface, man. I love ya too.” He whispered in a hoarse voice, feeling his eye lids dropping and his conscious fading rather quickly. It’s been, what, 5 days? 6 days? A week? He didn’t know. The smile stayed on his face as he took his last breath. 

“I deserve it.”


End file.
